Shadow Play (28 page)

Zurainah dismissed it. “Ghani teased him. Ghani knew what he was like. He pushed him. Ghani should have known to leave him alone.”

“I can't believe I'm hearing this,” Maryam declared.

“You can't keep baiting someone like Arifin. He has a temper. It
was Ghani's fault to keep teasing him. You know, I'm not saying Ghani deserved to die, but honestly, he knew he was playing with fire. But that was Ghani all over: he never learned.”

“Are you telling me that murder is justified because of a schoolyard fight?”

“Maybe not to you,” Zurainah retorted. “And that's why you tried to kill me?”

“I didn't try to kill you; stop whining,
Mak Cik,”
Zurainah said nastily, and very rudely. “I just wanted you to leave us alone.
Pak Cik
Dollah was trying his best, but you just won't listen.”

“Did you put the
jampi
under my stairs?”

Zurainah shrugged. “What does it matter who put the
jampi
there? I'm not in here for that, you know.” She began to gather intensity. “I'm here because I tried to push you into the road …”

“Under a car,” Maryam corrected her.

She shrugged again. “I don't know what the big deal is. You seem OK to me.”

Maryam was outraged. “I seem OK to you? You could have killed me! Haven't you any shame at all?”

“I could have killed you. But I didn't. They can't keep me here for not killing you,
Mak Cik.”

Maryam sighed and rose. “I don't have anything to do with what's going to happen to you,
Alhamdulillah.
I've had enough trouble to last me my whole life,” she said fervently. “I'm just asking you: did you put the
jampi
under my house? Did Dollah help you?”

She shook her head. “Dollah wouldn't have done it. He's very straight that way. He wasn't happy with Arifin, I can tell you.”

“I can imagine.”

Zurainah brushed her comment away. “Can you help me get out of here? I've got to get back to take care of my kids.” She looked straight at Maryam as though willing her to reply.

“I have nothing to do with this, I told you. I can't do anything.”

“The police listen to you,
Mak Cik.
I've seen it,” she wheedled. “I know you can help if you want to.”

Maryam sat very still, not reacting. She didn't think she could help, even if she wanted to, which she didn't. Zurainah would always be a menace to anyone she considered in her way. Maryam reviewed all the new scars to her body and her sense of well-being. Her face, her arm, her bruised hip; and this didn't include her belief in the world as a safe and ordered place, which was completely in shreds. It had been a brutal investigation, and Maryam wondered whether all investigations were like that and all murderers so completely uninterested in the people around them. She waited another moment and then stood to leave.

“I went to a
bomoh
in Bacok,” Zurainah finally admitted, examining her thumb with great interest. “He gave me the
jampi.”

“Did Arifin know you were doing it?”

“Of course; I told him. He came with me to put it under your stairs. He knew where you lived.” She sniffed. “Too bad, right,
Mak Cik
? I guess you'll be careful whenever you reach under the house now, won't you.”

“I will,” Maryam nodded.

“You'd better watch yourself,” Zurainah hinted darkly. She stood up, and smirked at Maryam. “Go ahead, tell the police,” Zurainah mocked her. “See if I care anymore. You're a nosy old woman and you'd be better off staying out of other people's lives.” With that, she walked to the door and signalled to the guard. The interview was over.

Chapter XXXIV

Osman was awakened from what seemed like his first decent sleep in weeks. He fumbled at the phone, hoping it would not bring him another crime so hard on the heels of the one he had just solved. Or someone, anyway, had just solved. “Hello,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Wake up!” His mother's voice crisply commanded him over the phone. “Are you asleep?”

“What?” He sat bolt upright in his bed, welcoming the familiar sounds of Perak Malay. He tried to gather his wits about him, feeling he might need them for the upcoming conversation. “What is it,
Mak
?”

“I've found her!” she announced proudly. “You're getting married!”

“I am?” he mumbled, unable to get his bearings. “Someone from Perak?” he asked hopefully.

“What do you think?” his mother demanded. “Wake up!”

He arrived at Kampong Penambang in the evening, when he calculated supper would have long been over and the dishes put away and Maryam wouldn't feel obligated to feed him. He suspected she'd feed him anyway, and the thought did not distress him.

“Come in, come in,” Mamat invited him from the porch, where he sat with his birds, feeding mashed bananas to one in his lap. “I can't get up,” he apologized, but you can go inside. Yam!” he bellowed without
moving, “We have a guest!”

“I'm getting married,” Osman blurted, even before he reached the top of the stairs, “My mother called last night.”

“Well, well,” Maryam smiled. “
Anak baik, menantu molek:
a good child and a pretty daughter-in-law. Your mother now has it all.”

Osman blushed and smiled sheepishly; maybe even fatuously. “It's about time,” Maryam congratulated him, ushering him into the living room and giving Aliza the sign to prepare a tray. “I think you'll be much happier married. Have you heard, Mat?” She turned as he came in the door. “
Che
Osman here is getting married.”

“Well done!” Mamat congratulated him.

“I didn't really do much of anything,” Osman explained to his widely grinning audience. “I mean, it was all my mother …”

“It always is,” Mamat assured him gravely. “A Perak girl?”

Osman nodded. “My mother knows her parents. I think we might be cousins somehow, I'm not sure. I don't know her, I mean …”

Maryam beamed. “Well, I'm so proud! Your first big case, and now you're getting married!”

“Well,” he explained, “I know. I guess.”

“No, really,” Maryam assured him. “You know, you're getting used to your job, now you'll be married, it's all growing up! After all, who doesn't get married?” she declared firmly.

“You'll still help me, won't you?”

“As though you might need it,” she scoffed. “You're a professional …”

“The Chief of Police,” Mamat interrupted. “An important man.”

“Right,” Maryam agreed. “Besides, I'm not sure I like this kind of thing. It's very hard on me. Falling down stairs,” she shuddered and the
men looked pained, “being run over. Honestly, I'm thankful I wasn't killed. And Rahman…”

They stood silently for a moment. “It seems wrong to be happy about getting married when he's still in the hospital,” Osman said mournfully. I don't know when he'll wake up.

“But he's still with us,” Maryam countered. “He's a young man and strong.” She paused briefly. “We must believe God will help him. Bring him back to his family.”

She shook her head as though to clear it of these thoughts and concentrate on more practical matters. “I've never had people trying to kill me before. I don't like it,” she said firmly. “I'm staying with my
songket.
You never get attacked in the market.” She turned briskly to Osman as Aliza set down a tray with dinner, “Come, sit and eat. You look hungry.”

Osman demurred, more from politeness than conviction, and Mamat put friendly though forceful hands on his shoulders and put him in his seat. “I'm glad to be out of it,” Maryam continued, “I don't think it's for me.”

“You're very good at it,
Mak Cik,”
Osman assured her. “You should think about it. You have a gift for finding things out, you know.”

“You mean give up my stall? Never. I like to be where I know just what I'm doing. Besides, I like the market. You don't meet a very nice group of people investigating a murder. I never suspected our own people could be so vicious. And rude! It's another world,” she said philosophically. But to think what goes on right here without us even knowing about it! People doing things I just can't believe. You haven't been here very long,
Che
Osman, and maybe you think it's like that here all the time, like the Wild West. But it isn't: it's very calm and
peaceful

“And people care about each other. Kelantan is such a good place,” she explained to him, fearing he might not believe her. “We have manners, you know, and people help one another.” She looked over at Mamat, who nodded in agreement. “Of course, I knew there were people like Faouda and Zurainah, I'm not naïve, but I never met them! I never wanted to meet them either, and to deal with them? I don't think so.”

Osman nodded, his mouth full of rice and curry. He widened his eyes in an attempt to look interested and alert, a man fully engaged in the conversation. Maryam, however, was not even paying much attention to him.

“I would never have believed women would act this way. Not that I'm saying it's OK for men, you understand. But women are supposed to be more, I don't know, thoughtful. Sensible. This has been quite an education, and I'm glad you've caught the murderer,” she said graciously. “But maybe from now on, your wife can help you.”

“But she won't speak Kelantanese either,” Osman said quickly, nearly choking on his rice in his hurry to convince Maryam otherwise. “It will be impossible, you see …”

“Oh, don't worry so,” Maryam waved a dismissing hand at him, “How do you even know anything else will happen? You could spend the next five years here with nothing more serious than someone accusing their neighbor of stealing a chicken, and then finding the chicken wandering around down the street. Murder doesn't happen here all that often.”

“It might start,” Osman answered somewhat glumly. “I might have just gotten here at the start of a new crime wave.”

“I hope not, for your sake,” Maryam answered quickly. “I can't imagine what this place would become with so many killers around. We'd all be dead in the road! No,” she moved the cigarette between her lips to free up both hands to pour more coffee. “I don't see a lot of trouble here anymore, not with these murderers put away. We'll all be safe in our houses now.”

Osman swallowed hard and ducked his head. “But you'll help me if there's trouble, won't you?”

Maryam didn't answer him, but gave Mamat a proud and satisfied grin. “We'll have to see,
Che
Osman. Now, why don't you concentrate on what you're eating?”

Malay Glossary

Abang
: Older Brother, a term of respect for someone somewhat older than you are. May also be used as a term of respect to a man roughly your same age

Aduh
: An exclamation of pain or surprise

Alamak
: An exclamation of surprise

Alhamdulillah
: Thank God

Atap
: Nipa Palm leaves used for thatching roofs

Ayah
: Father

Azimat
: Talisman, usually protective and worn on the person

Baju Kurung
: The traditional dress of a Malay woman consisting of a round necked, long sleeved blouse ending between the hips and the knees, with a sarong underneath.

Batik
: Wax print patterns on a cotton cloth. Also used as a generic for a woman's sarong

Bomoh
: Healer, both with herbs and spells

Che
: Short for
Enche
', mister

Cik
: Miss

Dalang
: Puppeteer

Golok
: Machete (Kelantanese)

Halal
: Food prepared according to Muslim law

Ikan Bilis
: Dried anchovies

Ikan Keli
: A species of catfish with a poisonous spine

Imam
: Muslim religious official

Jampi
: Magic spell

Jawi
: The Arabic based script in which Malay was written before the English arrived.

Jodoh
: The person you are fated to love

Kain Songket
: The queen of Kelantan's textiles made of silk with gold or silver geometric patterns woven into it.

Kak
: Short for
Kakak
, older sister, a form of address for someone a bit older than you are. May also be used as a term of respect for a woman roughly your same age.

Kampong
: Village

Kasehan
: A pity

Kecubong
: Datura: a poisonous jungle plant

Kedai Runcit
: General Store: also a small stall selling necessities in a village

Khadi
: Muslim Religious Official

Kurang ajar
: Insufficiently taught: rude and badly brought up

Lebai
: Religious Official

Maghrib
: Prayer at twilight

Mak Cik
: Auntie, a polite form of address for an older woman

Masjid
: Mosque

Merbok
: Zebra Doves, raised for their song and often shown in competitions

Nasi Kerabu
: Rice dyed blue, served with mint, basil, lemongrass, kaffir lime, torch ginger flower buds, raw vegetables, egg, grated coconut, chili paste and black pepper. Often sold as hawker food,
wrapped in a banana leaf, and a popular lunch at schools.

Nenek
: Grandmother

Niat
: Intention

Onde-Onde
: Small cakes made of rice flour, coated with coconut, with Gula Melaka (palm sugar) in the middle